the history of a sorrow, an inherited sadness, swells through a subtle magnification no larger in size beneath a microscope then the period. .
but that is merely what the world can see and what it is shown. visual deception, ocular charades for the unwitting. the stethoscope captures the robust fervor with witch it leeches blood and oxygen from inside me, alive and foreboding. scopes. always needing spectacles to see the truth. the great big nothing, the eternal jape of humanity. strive to live outside your skin. life, let live, love, let leave. i am the product of two decades and nearly a year of celibate suffering, only when i am cut thin and pierced by the haunting tonality of a symphony of misery does the burden lighten. the love song of alfred j prufrock. laugh. we drink coffee the same. leave me southern queen. your eyes did not lie, though your mouth could suppress the tide, i did swell in your eyes then, as if to say, i have never known a love as pure as yours but i will not be spoiled. so hoard your keys let me be. i will go back down to the basement on the hill for 4 more years of history